Always by Your Side
by silmelinde
Summary: James is injured when he and Theodore are captured by merciless privateers. Lieutenant pretends to be the Captain to save the man he secretly loves. Slash. Pre The Curse of the Black Pearl.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own PotC.

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**Chapter 1**

It happened too fast.

At ease as much as the duty allowed, he stood at his Captain's side, shoulder to shoulder, elated by the brush of their fingers as he handed the bronze spyglass to his commanding officer.

"Sir, look half a rhumb off the forecastle," lieutenant Groves reported his survey of the island as the _Interceptor_ lithely glided into the bay, shadowed by a cliff rising on their right. "I believe we can replenish our fresh water supply west from that elevation. I've spotted no significant obstacles between the site and the beach."

Chaotic entanglement of the lianas and large-leafed plants framed a silver flicker of the spring that stretched like a ribbon among the vibrant, breath taking landscape; the beauty that could only have been dimmed by the eyes of the man beside him.

"We can make a safe landing just to the northwest," Norrington pointed out the nearest spot where the smooth line of the beach ended and the rocky shore began. "There is no need for hassle with the extra boats to bring the marines. We want this stop to be quick. I doubt anything can spring from the greenery to devour the crew that's more dangerous than hungry Gillette."

"Your truth, the lieutenant has been restless. It will be prudent to have him lead the shore party," Groves offered on behalf of his friend, though the possibility to step on land and stretch his legs was appealing. Gillette was reputed with the ability to swallow an anchor if the right seasoning presented itself; a joke about his appetite that Phillip was amiable to. Gluttony was hardly the worst sin to be guilty of.

Groves was treated to the shadow of a smile when Norrington looked at him to return the spyglass; however, it never grew into the warm expression he loved as the Captain's attention got caught by a shady movement behind his shoulder.

"TAKE COVER!"

The order boomed across the deck mixed with the shattering of the spyglass, and left unrepeated by the first officer because Norrington grabbed a handful of Groves' uniform and tackled them down the stairwell that led to the bridge, not a moment too soon before the first volley hit the ship. _It was his favourite spyglass._ The thought was aberrant, considering that more men were about to fall and never get up than there were smashed lens pieces.

Several bruises from paying respect with his back and elbows to each stair were preferable to the fate of the previously occupied spot that was mauled into holes and flying splinters. Groves hadn't even a moment to glower at his leader as everything exploded into action. It was the first officer's job to keep the Captain safe, not have Norrington use himself as a shield to protect his lieutenant from the musket balls. It was a miracle that neither of them got wounded.

From the top of the cliff, the _Interceptor's_ deck was open like a palm of the hand. Every man was presenting an open target to the armed bandits. The marines returned fire, trying to give the crew at least some cover to work with the sails, but the position lacked advantage. Slow. Everything was too slow. Slipping lines had to be grabbed from the limp hands, helm taken over by one man and then another to complete the manoeuvre. Groves questioned why they were making a turn under fire when the instinct was telling him to let the ship run forward, so they could leave the cliff behind faster.

The Captain's voice cut through the shots, rising above the panic and dominating the conscience of his crew. His men held their positions, although death repeatedly claimed more lives, and their blood trickled down the sides of the ship into the sea.

Their stoicism brought the ship about and pulled them out of the shooting range. However, it was too early to breathe a sigh of relief. Two battle ready ships emerged from their hiding places, carrying at least fifty guns between them to the _Interceptor's_ twenty. Had the Navy ship entered the bay, she would have been trapped.

Too absorbed by studying the new threat, Groves missed cannon shot fired from the top of the cliff. With a stunned detachment, he observed the deck shatter around him. The sea and the sky moulded by violence into a crimson afterglow, and in the midst of it he was flying and falling until a painful hit against the water jolted him into reality.

His eyes were wide open when he submerged. He had a full view of the fiery debris sinking all around him, dancing and spinning like the lights of Hell, getting distorted more and more the less air remained in his lungs. Decisively, Groves kicked his feet and swam to the surface.

The _Interceptor_, blurred by the droplets on his eyelashes, had moved on, her sails rising up one by one, adamantly following the command to retreat. She could not return for one lost man with the two ships closing in on her. It would take an excellent tactic to get around them undamaged. All Groves could do was hope that the crew will get the ship to the meeting point on schedule and return with the reinforcements.

A quiet splash nearby alerted him, and Grove's heart sunk straight to the bottom of the bay. "Captain?" his voice came out as a faint whisper. Danger or not, he suddenly wanted to bring back the _Interceptor_ to pick up her lost crew. The feeling of how utterly useless he was settled in. He should have guessed that he wasn't the only one forced overboard by the explosion. Norrington could have drowned, considering how alarmingly long it had taken him to surface, and he wouldn't have known that his Captain needed help.

Norrington reached the nearest flotsam with a several conservative strokes, and secured his arms atop the maimed, darkened wood. Wearily, he laid his head down. His breaths were short and shallow.

Groves swam to his leader, almost close enough to lay a comforting hand on the lean, strained with the exertion back. "Captain, are you all right?" he tried again louder. Wet uniform and the necktie treacherously coiled around his throat and the exhaustion called down into the emerald depths of the sea he could never return from.

Norrington lifted his head, dazed expression lingering in his eyes, and then they cleared and recognition set in. "Groves, we should head for the left bank," he said without looking for the _Interceptor_. He expected the crew to follow his last order. He didn't answer the question, but Groves assumed it was unnecessary. They could talk once they were on land. Talking drained strength; meanwhile, even if the weather was fantastic and the sea smooth, the land was at least quarter of an hour away.

Used to following commands, Groves headed for the bank opposite of the cliff where the attack had come from. Unless they wanted to drown, they had to reach the island. An undesirable alternative, considering that there were a hundred bandits stationed on that rock. He had a bad premonition that they have been spotted, and they wouldn't be able to escape capture before the _Interceptor_ could return.

The island had to be surrounded by a network of numerous lookouts, considering how well the ambush had been organised. The bandits prepared in advance for the _Interceptor's_ approach, hiding their presence skilfully and setting their ships such that anyone entering the bay wouldn't be able to leave it. Even the shooting had been organised to kill the commanding officers first.

Horrible suspicion dawned on him. The _Interceptor_ was not on a regular patrol. She was heading to a meeting point where military officers, in command of the nearest English established ports, planned to discuss a recent threat. A mixed group of pirates and Spanish privateers, highly organised and uncannily aggressive, practiced attacking the patrolling military ships with seemingly no other aim than to reduce the commanding ranks of the Navy. So far, they have captured four ships, sending every Captain's head to the Admiralty wrapped up in boxes, gorily mutilated. All hostages have been treated savagely. Most of the crewmen were killed, and a few lucky ones traded for an unreasonably high price. The survivors were unable to provide any information aside from the names of the two ships.

Could it be the same group? The attacks occurred to the northeast, where the militaristic expedition intended to look first. Thus, the _Interceptor_ ran into an ambush in the suspicion free waters where nothing unusual had been reported. The bandits didn't lack intelligence. They could have organised a base away from the attacking ground. Whoever they were, Groves couldn't let them hurt his Captain.

Lieutenant searched the bank suspiciously before leaving the water. He was glad that he hadn't allowed the bay to claim his sword. Instinctively, he looked up to Norrington to consult their further actions. He expected the Captain to be on the shore. His commander was an excellent swimmer who surely would have reached the bank before he did, but Norrington was missing.

Groves caught sight of him as Norrington reached the shallows. As his mind marked the alarming details, Groves rushed into the water where the Captain was holding onto the flotsam at the depth that allowed him to stand. Norrington hardly raised his head to check whether he swam in the right direction, concentrating on the immediate movements, which even at a distance were increasingly faltering.

Groves broke into run, willing the man to stay there until he could help. Much to his horror, Norrington released the safety line. Limply, he slid off the flotsam and disappeared underwater. Groves closed the remaining distance within a heartbeat, which to him felt like an eternity, lunging into the shallows with a cloud of sand raised from the bottom and searching for Norrington. At last he managed to grab the man and secure a good foothold. The water was up to his chest. Groves slapped Norrington's back until the inhaled water poured out of his mouth and his gasps subsided into regular breathing.

"James, everything is fine. I have you. Take steady breaths," Groves urged. The informal address he so rarely used, but secretly longed to, inconspicuously slipped from his lips. He must have been reassuring himself, mostly, with the babbling because Norrington was deeply unconscious. Groves wrapped one arm around his shoulders and placed the other underneath his knees. Stumbling, he carried Norrington to the bank where he laid his charge down with the greatest care and placed his head onto his lap.

Groves shuddered. Overexerted muscles pleaded with him to drop down and lie unmoving alongside his Captain. Still fresh, devastative memories of the battle cut raw. He took a deep breath, willing the agitation to pass, and focused on the task at hand. When he undid the pins one by one delicately, weary of aggravating any existing injury, and removed the ruined wig, Groves found a bleeding wound. It was surprising that Norrington hadn't drowned with such a serious injury. He survived through the force of sheer will, which no matter how pitiful the situation, Groves could never have stopped admiring. The Captain possessed inner strength that shone like a bright star in the dread most places. He inspired and drew others to him for leadership and protection in the hardest of times.

Groves couldn't stop a tender brush across the forehead furrowed in pain. He ripped his own shirt into strips and bandaged Norrington's head. The bleeding had to be stopped in spite of the lack of fresh water to clean the wound. It was impossible to leave his charge alone to search for it, not when those bandits were around. It was paralyzing to think the torture they could inflict if they found the Captain in this state. He'd rather die trice the painful death than let it happen. He'd gladly accept any suffering in place of his Captain. A thought appeared unbidden - he could. Norrington would surely have every objection to his plan, but he was in no position to protest. Those bandits needn't know the truth which one of them was the Captain.

His finger shook as Groves slowly undid the Captain's vest buttons. His heart clenched in sympathy whenever Norrington gasped in pain as the switch was made. Removing the jacket and vest raised a warm blush to his cheeks. Wet, white shirt did little to hide the finely sculpted body, sticking to it at the most inappropriate places, hardened nipples peeking through thin batiste. Groves chided himself for inappropriate feelings. Helping his friend had nothing do to with lust. He dressed Norrington in the lieutenant's uniform, and then completed his own transformation, judging it to be adequate. They were almost the same height. The Captain's jacket stretched tight across his broader shoulders. Otherwise, the attire passed as his, and he could pass for the Captain. He had to or the life of the man he loved was forfeit.


	2. Chapter 2

The ground was covered in the patches of prickly, burned out grass completely unsuitable for making camp for the wounded a few hundred yards away from the shore. The white sand scattered and slid away beneath his feet, and the scorching sun formed a trail of sweat down his back. Theodore only gritted his teeth, determined to carry his Captain to a suitable spot, preferably with a soft grass and a crystal stream. Assisting Norrington was no burden, but with every step he took Groves became increasingly concerned that his friend remained unconscious.

Minor noise behind them drew his attention, and he turned around quickly to face the threat. A tangled patch of grass caught his foot. Groves landed inelegantly, accepting the pain from the fall, foremost concerned that Norrington wouldn't hit the ground too hard. He jumped onto his feet at once, drawing his sword, and putting himself between the Captain and four pirates that stopped several feet away. Two of them raised their muskets. Their leader seemed unconcerned, standing with his feet wide apart and his hands tucked into a wide, leather belt.

"You should watch where you're going, Englishman. That's the second time today you've walked in on the hostile forces," the pirate informed him in mostly smooth English, grinning ear to ear. His mouth, full of gold teeth, shone brightly.

"Funny," Groves parried, "I was under impression that so called hostile forces, although outnumbering and outgunning us heavily, were cowardly sneaking up behind us."

The pirate showed no signs or irritation, well aware that he was the winner of this confrontation. He and one of his buddies leisurely approached the pair, smartly stopping outside the sword reach.

"Do you have a name?" he prompted.

"Honourable men tend to introduce themselves first," Theodore told him, but answered the question, openly implying that he was dealing with anything but an honourable man. "I am Captain James Norrington. This is Lieutenant Groves."

The pirate remained unaffected by insults. If anything, they amused him. "Wake him," he addressed the other pirate with a nod at James.

Groves understood, but feigned ignorance. When he was a child, his sister loved learning new languages. She pestered Theodore with her favourite Spanish until that knowledge passed onto him as well. He could speak, not as well as she did, but decently enough. The early lessons turned out useful when he was commissioned to the Caribbean.

The pirate's mind had never been burdened by the medical knowledge or much wit. He figured that smashing a heavy boot deep into prisoner's ribs would do the trick. The pain jolted Norrington into consciousness.

The rudeness nearly cost the pirate his head. Only a long pistol jammed into his chin by the leader stopped Groves from decapitating the offender. "Since I don't like being called 'hey you', I'll let you know that my name is Alfonso," he informed Groves casually. Theodore lowered his sword reluctantly.

Alfonso snapped his fingers. "Search the prisoners," he ordered impatiently.

The pirate threw Groves a dirty glare, fingering a scraped ear, and then crouched by Norrington, mistakenly expecting that the prisoner was harmless. The payback came swiftly in form of a kick that doubled him over in half. He howled in pain and grabbed his musket with curses. An order barked by Alfonso stopped him.

"Do be wiser and don't resist when I'm holding your comrade at a gunpoint," he suggested to Norrington.

The other pirate, grumbling, and this time paying weary respect to the prisoner, searched him. Theodore gritted his teeth as those rough, dirty hands shamelessly travelled the Captain's body, lingering longer than necessary, feeling too much. He could never imagine taking such liberties. James deserved to be touched with nothing but reverence.

His turn came next. The pirate was throwing carelessly onto the grass all confiscated weapons. Groves feigned deep indifference under Alfonso's close watch. The man's manners were loose, but it he watched the prisoners like a shark. He wouldn't react lazily should they give him a reason to shoot them.

"Get up," Alfonso barked, once his buddy collected an armful of loot.

Norrington slowly followed the order. He swayed as soon as he took a vertical position. Groves, disregarding a weapon pointed at him, surged forward and caught him. "Steady, Lieutenant," he ordered.

"I'm Captain," Norrington muttered.

"Lieutenant Groves snap out of it," Theodore said crossly. He was afraid that James will give them away.

However, Alfonso burst into laughter, thinking that the Englishman hit his head too hard. "Since you've carried her so tenderly, I request that you and your lady love follow us," he said, extremely pleased with his joke. "We have just the cabin prepared for you."

Groves wrapped his arm securely around Norrington's waist, discretely supporting his entire weight. James was trembling from the effort it took to keep his footing, but he refused to betray how badly he was hurting. The pirates surrounded them: two walking behind the prisoners and two ahead. Alfonso controlled their swift pace. The sun and the sand seemed to have no bearing on him as he left miles behind with the long, tireless strides. Half an hour later he growled in displeasure that the prisoners were slowing them down. "Make him walk faster or we'll drag him behind us," he threatened. Just then they were forced to a halt as Norrington stumbled. The pirate lunged forth and backhanded the prisoner. James went limp.

"I'll carry him!" Theodore snapped. He barely refrained from smashing his fist into Alfonso's meaty nose. While they were walking, he recalled that he had been in skirmishes with the odds slimmer than four men against him. Only concern that Norrington couldn't defend himself, whereas the pirates were sure to attack the weakest of the pair to subdue the other, stopped Groves from trying his luck.

Alfonso spat at the prisoner. "If you don't keep up, I'll shoot him."

Groves swung Norrington over his shoulder. Knowledge that James would suffer if he failed gave Theodore strength to keep up, although the pirate set an even quicker, punishing pace.

Quarter of an hour later the pirate camp came in sight. The ground was scorched by extinguished fires with the pots and pans negligently dumped around. The camp resembled a random Tortuga square with a colourful crowd. Sure enough, there were pirates dressed in varying grab they've obtained from every part of the world, even uniforms. There was another group of sailors attired in bandanas and loose shirts secured by red belts that were wrapped around their waists three times. The crowd got along fine for the most part. Various groups carried on vivid discussions, helping themselves with abrupt gestures, most of it being impressions from the attack on the _Interceptor_. They bragged how many men they've killed and drank to about a dozen men they've lost.

The prisoners were not a rarity at the camp because no one paid attention to the two naval officers led by Alfonso to the margins of the camp where they were thrown into a crudely built cage.

"Enjoy your stay. This may be the last day of your life," Alfonso smirked. He didn't set watch. The prisoners had nowhere to run on the small island thronged by the pirates.

The ground in the cage was soaked in blood. Groves huddled with James in the furthest corner where a small patch of shade remained. Theodore arranged his coat the best way to protect Norrington from the sun. He ripped another piece from his shirt to change the bandages. An absence of fresh blood made him hopeful that Norrington would soon regain consciousness; meanwhile, Theodore did all circumstances allowed to make their imprisonment bearable. He was soon rewarded when James stirred and expressive green eyes met his.

"How do you feel?" Groves prompted. It must have been awful indeed because Norrington didn't downplay the injury.

"Nauseous," James whispered, swallowing hard to keep the content of his stomach down.

"I think this may help," Theodore said. He remembered an incident when he was about seven. An upset stomach was an unforgettable lesson after he had gotten into an apple tree before the fruit ripened and eaten too many. His sister scolded him first, but when she realised that he truly was sick, she held him and rubbed his back. Experimentally, Theodore ran his hand along James' back. "It's all right," he assured when the other tensed, "my sister used to do this to me when I was sick." He continued to rub slow, comforting circles until James relaxed and the nausea receded.

"Sir," Groves asked, concerned how the head wound may have affected Norrington, "I'm wondering, prior to the attack, have we told Gillette where to find the secret strategy plans that we've intended to discuss with the other Captains?"

"There is no such thing as the secret strategy plans," James huffed, annoyed that his memory was a suspect. "You're exaggerating the extent of my injury. I'm fine."

"I sure will accept an honest word that he's fine from a man who shouted that he's in perfect health with three bullets in his side," Groves reminded.

Norrington had the grace to blush. Four months ago on patrol, the Captain spotted a British vessel under attack by two corvettes. The vessel was boarded and looted by the time help arrived, but the greed cost the pirates a chance to flee. The _Interceptor_ reached them sooner than they've anticipated. To their credit, the pirates accepted a fight without panic, boarding the Navy ship in a frenzy driven battle. Their nerves gave out only after their Captain was killed, and they fled on the remaining corvette.

Norrington sustained three firearm wounds in that fight, but adamantly refused to see the doctor. Leaning on Groves, he insisted that others needed help more than he did while trying to limp over to the saved vessel to assist the victims. Only a threat from his first officer that he will raise a question of removing the Captain from duty until a thorough examination of his head was conducted, since he thought that he was fine turning the deck into a blood pond, silenced Norrington. James was convinced that Groves and the doctor conspired against him and avoided all situations when the two had a chance to be in one room with him. The recovery lasted over a month, although Norrington ran away from the hospital five days later.

The Captain must have felt that he crossed the line after his friend spent several hours looking for him because he offered apologetically, "Thank you for putting up with me then."

Groves only rolled his eyes at his own behaviour because a hint of a shy, apologetic smile made him forgive everything. "Any time," he chuckled, "it's fair enough since you have to put up with me."

"I don't need to put up with you. I am always glad to have you near," James responded quickly. Feeling that his outburst was awkwardly serious when they were joking he amended, "When you aren't pretending to be a nagging nurse of course."

Theodore grinned to conceal his embarrassment that he was reading too deeply into an innocent enough statement. He was too desperate to hear that James needed him at least as a friend or a colleague. He may have lived though the sleepless nights whenever his Captain was hurt, however, a small part of him remained happy to have an excuse to be near the man he loved. He was gladdened by something as little as bringing a glass of water to Norrington.

Their conversation ended because James was too ill to talk, and the nausea returned. Groves rubbed his back to sooth the discomfort until Norrington drifted into sleep.

Theodore reverently watched every breath. He had fantasised about holding James in his sleep, but this wasn't what he had in mind. Maybe, he should have been more specific by presenting his wishes to the dream goddess in a concrete form, such as location, circumstances and state of dress.

Groves berated himself for inappropriate thoughts when he friend was badly hurt. It was rare to see Norrington so vulnerable. The Captain was untouchable, always separated by an invisible wall of politeness and uniform. Norrington shifted on his lap, apparently in discomfort. His hand landed on Theodore's thigh and squeezed it as his fingers contracted in pain.

Groves took a deep breath and counted to a hundred, trying to imagine Alfonso in a pink corset, but it only served to make the man on his lap in contrast more beautiful. 'I love you so much, my heart may burst,' he thought tenderly. However, he was forbidden to show that affection. Holding the wounded comrade was as far as propriety allowed. He couldn't reach out to smooth the pain filled wrinkles from James' forehead, nor kiss the lips that were set into a thin line against the suffering. Theodore only adjusted the jacket and held on to his charge tighter.


	3. Chapter 3

They lived through one night and half of a scorching day. Lost in contemplation, Theodore saw a thin trail of smoke rising up to mingle with a bright, blue sky crisscrossed by palm leaves and felt the heat of a burning skin pressed against his palm.

Four to six days, counting the distance and delays, that's how soon they could expect the _Interceptor_ to approach the island with reinforcements. Theodore had to believe she escaped. No pirate ship he had seen matched her for speed. Although the pirates held a fortified position, the Navy could surprise these scoundrels by returning sooner than they'd be anticipating. The pirates were unaware that a force, armed and prepared to fight, had been assembling.

No matter how optimistic he could be about such attack, Groves acknowledged that these few days loomed above the prisoners like a raised guillotine, lengthening each heart beat. It was an estimate how long they had to survive for.

So far, the pirates have done nothing to confirm their monstrous reputation, ignoring the prisoners completely. The nearest group sat in a semi-circle, huddling closer to one side where a palm tree provided a scant shade, burping excessively and consuming abusive amounts of rum. Groves didn't lament their complete lack of interest in the prisoners until fresh water became a necessity.

Over night, Norrington developed a fever that grew progressively worse through the morning as the sun got higher. The Captain struggled against it, lost in semi-unconsciousness. Theodore brushed beads of sweat from his burning forehead. Even now, relying on his care, Norrington seemed unreachable. It broke Theodore's heart that James always fought alone. He wanted to cross the distance between them and convince the stubborn man that accepting help and loyalty wouldn't diminish his strength. Norrington wouldn't agree, convinced he was responsible for them all, responsible for being strong, and his green eyes would blaze with conviction. Groves wondered what it would be like to cease him, violently if necessary, and kiss those firm lips to quell the protests.

These were fantasies he couldn't indulge in when reality demanded firm action. Groves folded his jacket and arranged it underneath James' head. Full of reluctance to leave the Captain's side even for a moment, he rose unsteadily onto his feet that felt wooden after sitting all night on the ground in the same position. The cage bars scratched his palm as Groves leaned onto them and sized up nearby pirates he intended to challenge. "I beg your pardon fine gentlemen," he shouted ironically, emphasizing that he was addressing the group by throwing a small clump of earth in their direction. "I would like a moment of your time please."

One of the 'fine gentlemen' burped and scratched under his armpit before abandoning his seat. "What's it you want?" he shouted from several feet away, too lazy to walk to the cage.

"Water."

The pirate stared dumbly, startled by the prisoner's commanding tone and then his face distorted in a mocking grimace. "So sorry!" he exclaimed, "It ain't your mansion where there's servants running about, bringing you water. I got no orders to give you nothing."

"Except you have orders to keep us alive."

The pirate spat on the ground far ahead, aiming between the cage bars. "You're far from dying," he snapped and went back to the merry circle where he translated the conversation to his drinking buddies much to their amusement. One of the pirates turned around. Groves recognised the man whose ear he had nearly cut off the day before. The man gave him a rotten tooth smile and then said something to the others that elicited crude laughter.

The pirates put their heads together, conversing excitedly and shooting dirty looks at the cage. Then, the four of them made a beeline to the prisoners with a questionably clean mug of water. It was leaking and dirty, but the sparkling water inside looked divine to parched man. One of them brought the mug within the prisoner's reach. Groves ignored it, suspecting a trick. The pirate frowned and pulled the mug away.

"Here's deal, Englishman," he informed the prisoner. "We get to punch you for every gulp of water you take or kick you for every two, our choosing. Does that sound like fair trade?"

"It doesn't," Groves uttered through clenched lips, "but I agree to your conditions."

The pirate shoved the mug rudely into the prisoner's hands, reinforcing that he should hurry up with an oath. He growled in annoyance when Groves turned his back on the group to kneel beside Norrington. Burning throat and instincts screamed at him to take a gulp of the saving moisture, but he was unwilling to waste a single drop. Theodore moistened his fingers and brushed them along James' lips to coax him into sipping the liquid.

His heart beat sped up and his breath caught when James stirred, about to regain consciousness. He was robbed of an opportunity to see those beautiful eyes open by a loud profanity filled with a menacing impatience. The jailers were eager to be entertained. They jerked the cage door open as Groves rose to face them and hurled him out by the front of his jacket, encircling their prey as he stumbled forward.

They weren't in a hurry to initiate the beating. The pirates leered and laughed, waiting for Groves to lose concentration before one of them would land an abrupt punch. An element of surprise was on Englishman's side. Groves lunged at the nearest man with a right hook strong enough to make his opponent stagger and spun wildly to meet the next attack, dodging and landing furious punches and kicks, oblivious to the pain and the rain of blows inflicted by his enemies. The world turned red just as the splintered deck of the _Interceptor_ had for which he wanted to repay dearly. He fought until a particularly vicious blow to the head dropped him onto the ground where he endured, waiting for the pirates to grow bored of trampling and taking pleasure in dispiriting a subdued challenger. At last, they stopped out of breath to wipe sweaty foreheads with sleeves, leaving dirty marks across their faces.

"This was just down payment for insubordination," one of them spat through a cracked and bleeding lip. "Here's your water payment." He landed several more kicks into prisoner's back, increasingly satisfied when they elicited a pained hiss.

The abuse was interrupted by a forgotten mug slamming into the back of the tormentor's head. The pirate saw sea stars and urchins as his buddies howled in laughter. Clutching the sore spot where a mug size lump was sure to form, he threw a hateful glare at the caged prisoner who was down on one knee, glaring back with ferocious intensity. Feeling that immediate retaliation would earn him further ridicule, the pirate dragged Groves into the cage and slammed it shut, thinking he'll have a shot at revenge yet. The pirates grumbled, reluctantly abandoning their entertainment as their superior appeared, yelling at the slacking bilge rats that were them to get back to work and enforcing his orders with threats and whip cracking.

The prisoners were left alone, locked together. All Theodore heard was his own ragged breathing as his mind accessed injuries. Although plentiful, none of them felt serious. He focused on mustering strength to get up and check that James was all right. His much abused body, however, refused to cooperate. Groves swallowed a thin trail of blood that was slowly filling his mouth and sputtered.

"Easy."

A soft sleeve wiped the blood trail running down from the corner of his lips. Through thin material Theodore felt James' warm hand. He made an effort to rise up on an elbow in spite of a hand urging him to lie still. He needed to see James' face, still sickly, but no matter what beautiful. Concern edged into his Captain's features was gratifying. It was so rare for James to be solely focused on him without endless distractions of everyday life swarming between them.

"The blood is not from internal injuries," Groves tried to alleviate his Captain's worry, not expecting that Norrington will drop the matter so easily.

"You should lie still until we determine the extent of your injuries."

"Mild compared to yours," Groves murmured. He did follow the request nonetheless, feeling better by returning to a completely horizontal position. "I'm glad you're finally awake and hale."

James didn't reply, apparently brooding over something that caused Groves to shift onto his side to see his Captain better. "Does something trouble you, Sir?" he prompted.

James hesitated, however, locked in the cage as they were the question wasn't going to go away. "Mr Groves, admittedly, I am experiencing a headache and all the symptoms of a concussion. Given your earlier insistence, I am at a loss which one of us is the Captain."

The confusion was genuine. It was tempting to lie, yet impossible when Norrington looked so lost and vulnerable. "You are," Groves confessed, inwardly cringing at an evident alarm the truth provoked. "I had to lie. I have reasons to suspect our capturers are responsible for disappearance of several ships in this area as well as gorily beheading every man in charge. We cannot afford to lose anymore upper ranked officers else this region will be run by unqualified men."

"As much as I respect you, I refuse to listen to nonsense when you claim that my life is more important than yours."

This was the worst time to be pitted against James' stubbornness. His head hummed like the day he was subjected to Gillette's purposely insufferable opera dedicated to ninety nine bottles of rum, where unfortunately loudness was proportional to a lack of skill, when his friend came to drag him off to a six in the morning shift, following a night celebrating lieutenant York's birthday crowned with lots of drinking. It was tempting to drop his head in surrender and let Norrington decide what to do. He was too tired to choose his words carefully and come up with excuses about the military necessity to hide one feeling and one thought that the world would lose all vibrancy and meaning without James in it. This was why he couldn't surrender the argument. In spite of a darkening vision Groves made another attempt to convince his Captain.

"Do you propose we should tell these men that I've made a joke at their expense when judging by the state of this cage, they severe limbs off men for pleasure? They may take it personally enough to kill us both," he implored, "Can you not just once listen to me and pretend to be a lieutenant for our sake?"

"I always value your advice. You needn't doubt that."

The voice was coming through a haze. Norrington wasn't convinced, but the statement was ambiguous to end an argument neither of them could carry on. Groves was satisfied that the Captain wouldn't give away his deception immediately. He claimed James' hand to squeeze it in silent thanks and dared to keep it as his friend didn't show urgent intent to free it. They couldn't afford to fight during a short respite. Their capturers had to be fools, they were not, to learn nothing from two officers that would help them inflict more damage to Royal Navy. The prisoners needed to gather their strength for an interrogation.


	4. Chapter 4

Hi everyone,

I hope you are having wonderful holidays. I wish you a Happy New Year.

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**Chapter 4**

When four 'gentlemen,' compared to the miscreants swarming about, showed up and for breakfast hit him across the face with a musket butt, Groves figured that the island's 'Governor' was back and wished to become acquainted with the prisoners. Unlike the other colourful riffraff, these men wore matching red belts that marked them as members of the same crew. They showed disinterest in the other prisoner, aside from binding Norrington's wrists behind his back, before marching Groves away with them.

Groves hoped they'd escort him aboard their flag ship to estimate their power and armament, but it seemed their leader was set to deny him that opportunity. The prisoner was taken to an unremarkable man who was solely focused on chasing a black beetle back and forth across a plank with a pin. Whenever the creature nearly reached freedom, the man poked it, forcing it to run in another direction. Some of the stabs went deep for there was orange liquid oozing down the beetle's side as the poor bug kept running, desperate to escape the trap.

"Remarkable creatures are they not Mr Norrington?" the man stated without stopping his entertainment to regard the prisoner. "They can fall from great heights without receiving serious injuries, they can tolerate temperatures that freeze polar bears, they can survive without food for months and they have endless stamina to keep running while deadly injured. Men are such frail creatures in comparison that killing a supreme thing like this turns men's passing insignificant. And I ask myself would it not be great for men to have these abilities."

At last, he trapped the beetle, letting its paws scrape against the wood hopelessly while keeping it in place by piercing its upper body, and then studied both the prisoner and the beetle with expression turned inward to savage instincts. "Still, I find they both are a subject to death." With a small popping sound, he forced the pin through the creature into the wood and turned his back on it to approach the prisoner, ignoring the beetle's final convulsions.

"It's a pleasure to meet you too, Mr you have me at a disadvantage for I have no idea as to your name," Groves quipped. "Perhaps, you can also introduce me to your companion." He nodded at the dead beetle.

"Don't be so modest," said the man, stepping into the personal space much closer than Groves wished to have him. "I expect the scourge of piracy to know every half-significant name threatening his Caribbean territory and have their habits stored in his vast memory. I expect him to look at one's behaviour and identify who he's dealing with."

Groves shrugged. He had planned to determine the kidnapper's motives, but it seemed that this one was plain nuts in most dangerous, homicidal manner. He leaned away in disgust as the man reached for his face, but his arms were instantly twisted behind his back and his head forced down to the madman's level. With the minor protest subdued, the man pulled down the prisoner's eyelid and examined it in minor agitation.

"Maybe you're right," he conceded. "I am not a pirate or privateer, though the crews that work for me are. I'm a surgeon who heard much about you and wanted to meet you. I thought you were a man of savage genius who uses the law to kill and kill to preserve justice, supposedly. However, you don't seem that intelligent. A lucky man I suppose to catch that many pirates and such a disappointment. I rather hoped to talk to someone semi-intelligent. It's so difficult to be a lonely genius. I have absolutely no one to understand the depth of my experiments."

"Well then, since I am such a dull conversation, I'll be happy to take a leave of you. If you can spare a boat, my companion and I will clear your island immediately," Groves volunteered.

The man appeared to be deaf to irony. "This doesn't mean I cannot use you," he said, turning away and seemingly stalking off in a random direction. However, his guards seemed to have lots of experience with what he had in mind. They showed Groves harshly in the back as means of command to keep up with their employer who followed a twisted path through the greenery and jabbed muskets into his spine whenever Groves showed any reluctance to cooperate.

"I am Fernando Ferro," the man informed his prisoner at last, seemingly in want of conversation. Thus, Groves didn't reply.

Ferro led the party to a green cliff overhanging the sea with the waves below splashing against the rocks where the prisoner was pushed to the very edge until the tips of his boots lost ground.

"Magnificent is it not?" said Ferro. "From this place I can watch the horizon and feel the freedom from those who wanted to lock me away for my theories. Here I can do as I want without foolish interruptions and scepticism. Yet, it's enough to look down to see the spinning abyss below and remember that outcast men always stand on the verge of death."

"Don't you have any other themes for conversation," Theodore complained, "something less morbid?" He tried to suppress a shudder of disgust as Ferro's hand travelled along his neck.

"Men may think they have other priorities, however, when pain and death catches up to them, there is nothing else they will think of. As a surgeon, I know that men have their weak points. All bodies do." His fingers dug into the neck nerve, and Theodore's head rolled limply to his side. Part of him was paralyzed. The rocks and the water spun below. "It is exhilarating how much pain I can create without breaking a limb, not that I won't."

Seeing that the prisoner couldn't respond, Ferro released him and signalled his men to force Groves onto his knees. "I would like to kill you, but your little ship most inconveniently escaped from me," he hissed into the prisoner's ear, closely smelling out his reaction to every word. "Though the chances of defeat are insignificant, I should keep you alive as a bargaining token. She will be coming back won't she? Will she bring friends? I calculate all possibilities. The Navy must have noticed by now that something's amiss and reacted. Do they want to hunt me? I will have to relocate as soon as I deal with this threat. I won't sink such pretty ship, that _Interceptor_. I used all my knowledge, every trick in the book to catch up, but she got away regardless. There won't be mercy for anyone else. This piece of land will soon be known as the blood island. Your people are blind fools, feeling safe behind their weapons because they haven't seen how many ships I have. I will kill them all. While we wait for them, I will play a game with you."

"Charming," Groves muttered, vividly recalling the dead beetle.

As if sensing his self congratulations on sparing his Captain this raving nonsense, Ferro suddenly poked Groves' cheek with the same dirty fingers he used to torment the beetle, forcing a half-way turn to witness how his crewmen dragged in the second prisoner. Norrington's face was tightly drawn, though not enough to hide pain. He went down limply when he was dropped nearby. Groves could see him by turning his head left.

Ferro nudged Groves to face the sea again. "Raise your hands," he commanded. "Raise them like a cross or an eagle spread if you like. Ironic really, should you fall."

Groves obeyed to avoid another tirade. Ferro sure liked to talk. He probably talked to the beetle too before killing it. Not that it made him less dangerous, him or his games. To his right Ferro set up a sandglass, still talking.

"The second you lower your arms some unpleasant beating and whipping shall befall your lieutenant," he promised. "But, when you raise them the whipping will stop until you drop them again. Maintain the pose until all sand trickles down into the lower half of the sandglass. Should you fall or give up before it happens, we'll push him off the cliff. No one so far survived the fall. Of course, you may not either should you lose consciousness. Five hours is a very long time."

"Do I get a tea break?" Groves asked. He was more than sure these people will act on the threat.

"No. But, I'm no sadist. Here is a benefit if you do manage to last five hours without dropping your hands once. I'll provide your lieutenant with medical treatment and food."

"I won't hold my breath," Groves muttered.

"Don't tempt me to order that too," Ferro hissed, flipping the sandglass and retreating into shade where he intended to take notes of the men's behaviour.

Groves took a deep breath. These were going to be the longest five hours in his life. His arms felt led filled within quarter of an hour. He wondered if anyone had been whipped to death because their companion couldn't hold their arms out anymore. It must have been dreadful to head the screams and feel behind your back how someone's life is leaving their body, but to have no more strength to prevent it. Ferro didn't need to bribe him to remain in the position as long as he could. He could never bring James pain. Groves tried to measure the cliff's height, wondering if they could survive a dive; the rocks made it impossible.

He wondered if Ferro calculated this possibility too. Normally, pirates weren't great tacticians. This group's cunning had to be attributed to Ferro who even trained Alfonso to pay closer attention and remember the names Groves used. He learned much about them with limited resources prior to speaking with the prisoners. Groves questioned what it would mean to outsmart a man who developed counter moves before one even thought about making them. The prisoner gritted his teeth and steeled treacherously trembling arms. They've been through much worse with Norrington.

Even their first meeting was marked by battle. Three years ago when he served on HMS _Defiant_, Captain Johnson received orders to scout the west coast of Aruba for a secret base. Sneaking in to investigate proved far easier than getting out. The _Defiant_ was tracked and forced into battle with a ship that had more guns than the sea devil harvested souls. When he was forced to roll underneath a collapsing mast that fell in the cannons roar to gain respite from three advancing opponents, Groves no longer thought about survival, only how to make his defeat as costly as possible. Only when he went on his knees soaked in sweat and blood and an unknown officer deflected a blade meant for him did he realise that another ship joined the fray. A spark passed between them when the stranger grabbed his hand to help him up. This energy shot to his heart and gave him the second wind to keep fighting, back to back with this man until victory.

He recalled vividly awe-inspiring moment when the ship that seemed unshakable like a mountain called surrender. It was a costly victory. The _Defiant_ was lost. She sunk with the body of her captain spread out on the deck, still at his post. Captain Norrington, it was he who came to the rescue, showed great organisational skill in securing the captured ship, caring for the wounded and assigning repairs. He recruited the _Defiant's_ surviving crew to replace the men he lost. Groves was one of those men. That battle forged a connection between him and Norrington, and established an unbreakable tradition to fight side by side. This bond was beyond the likes of Ferro to understand; he who never knew loyalty or love.

Through the curtain of memories and growing fatigue, Groves heard his tormentor speak.

"I salute your endurance, Captain. No man lasted this long. But your physical limits will betray your stubbornness. The sun is boiling you alive. It's getting harder to draw the next breath. At this rate, you will both die unnecessarily. Call surrender and only your lieutenant will fall."

Groves chuckled mirthlessly through the lips that were cracked and bleeding from the scorching heat and salty breeze. He imagined his body was carved of stone that would never move from the given position for eternity if needed.

"I can rest when I'm dead," he answered.

"As you wish."

There was a faint click behind him of a trigger being pulled and then, a shot.


	5. Chapter 5

It was a honed military instinct to drop down and take cover that took the greatest strength of character to suppress. His cheek flared in pain as the led raced by, leaving a breath of heat on it to remind how near death walked by his side. The puff of smoke drifted past the unmoving figure, carried off by the wind.

"I missed. What a pity," Ferro drawled out as one of the bodyguards brought another pistol to him. "Shall we play again?" he inquired calmly like it was a log he was shooting at rather than a breathing man.

"Unless you do kill me, it will not change where I stand," a rasp reply came, leaden with unwavering determination. "Had I given up this position, you would have considered it a defeat and pushed my companion off the cliff." Theodore's heart hammered fast in his chest at how nearly Ferro came to succeeding. Only a thought that emerged like a flare of lightening, stopped him from giving into the instinct.

"It's amazing how pressure can cause brief flashes of enlightenment in mediocre minds," Ferro stated. He came to stand by the prisoner who defied him stubbornly, although he was close to losing consciousness. "You're more fun than I thought."

"Does that mean the hours are up and we get that medical care you promised," Groves stated ironically. The rocks doubled below and his throat burned so much that each word came out like it had thorns.

"You get nothing. Maybe you will during tomorrow's game, maybe you won't."

"Leaving your guests so soon?" Groves summed up without the slightest regret. "The sun hasn't set yet."

"Too much honour," Ferro hissed. "You're not important to waste much time on, which you will experience as soon as your friends are dead. I depart to prepare a warm welcome for them."

"Sir, the prisoners?" asked one of the guards as his leader headed away without an explanation.

Ferro threw a pistol into his head. "Toss them back into the cage!" he shouted, irritated that he had to explain the most obvious things to everyone.

The guards took the orders literally, Groves decided once he landed on his face into dirt inside the cage. With immediate threat to James gone, strength abandoned his body as he lay, gasping shallowly, prone like the dust that made breathing difficult.

"Breathe."

Accompanying the soft command, a pair of hands grasped Theodore's shoulders and rolled him onto his back, giving him time to compose himself. Calloused hand brushed sweat and dirt away from his eyes. James was leaning low over him with the pain he pushed away to assist his friend lurking in the green eyes, and his breath was hot on Theodore's cheek, eliciting a shudder that didn't come from exhaustion. If he leaned on an elbow to rise up just a little, their lips would have touched.

"Home sweet home," Groves rasped, forcing a minor smile to thwart the impulse.

"You think?" said Norrington. "I find it a little bland without blue curtains."

"The curtains should be green to match your lovely eyes," Groves deemed it safe to disguise the compliment as a joke. Teasing was the only way he could occasionally confess his feelings. Usually, it came in the evenings when they could relax in the officers' mess hall with a glass of brandy after a shift.

Norrington chuckled mirthlessly. "The rest of the cage seems to fit our appearance perfectly. You look awful."

"Thank you. I heard it is best to blend into surroundings, adapt to the situation."

"You were certainly playing games with Ferro convincingly. As grateful and awed I am by your determination, I've regretted many times over while seeing you suffer that I allowed you to get away with the lie. When he shot…" Norrington's voice cracked and he cleared it. "I thought he was going to kill you."

"He won't. He needs us," Groves assured, thrown into disquiet by an equally sure statement.

"He's not fully sane. He may, rather will, disregard blatant need for prisoners on a whim."

"What do you suggest?" said Groves, confident this wasn't an invitation to complain.

Though they appeared to be occupied with nursing injuries, the pair watched the surroundings for anyone who might be close enough to overhear bits of their conversation.

"We don't wait for the Interceptor."

James' lips barely moved and his hand casually went to his shirt to indicate a hidden object that would aid their escape, which fell into his hands while they were escorted through the camp.

After ensuring that Groves was in a resting rather than dying from the exhaustion position, Norrington stretched out by his side, letting his companion know that he should focus on gathering his strength for a breakout. Groves followed his example, arranging his limbs as comfortably as the ground allowed and tried to nap, though only the restless semi-unconsciousness came where he was unable to resist occasional glances at the man beside him while waiting for the evening to roll in to lull their captors and blanket the camp in darkness.

He must have fallen asleep after all because he was woken at midnight when he sensed that James stirred beside him. Groves rubbed his eyes, willing them to adjust to the lack of light faster. He made out James' figure leaned at an awkward angle where he worked on breaking the weakest spot in their prison. In the cricketing of cicadas, no one heard the faint sound of a broken piece of pottery cutting the rope that bound the door.

Ferro must have been very confident in his control over the prisoners because no one bothered to set watch by the cage. The campgrounds, likewise, had no one wandering about. Without speaking, the prisoners briefly separated to salvage anything useful nearby. When they met again, Groves had a sword and Norrington a flask and some food. Ducking at the slightest suspicious movement or sound, they circled the camp in search of the path that led towards the fresh water. Randomly wandering the jungle wouldn't have gotten them far as they'd have gotten stuck in the undergrowth. Thus, it was best to reach water and then perhaps the shore, though it was also the most dangerous choice to wander the path their enemies have cut out and frequented. Once the eyes adjusted to night, human silhouettes were distinguishable on a clear night. As the pair travelled, they counted on pirates to carry the torches, feeling the island's owners, that would blind them to anything beyond the small circle of light while making them visible far enough for escaped prisoners to take cover. Luckily, they encountered no one.

The camp wasn't too far from the stream. The last hundred yards they ran, nearly forgetting caution, driven by days of thirst. They drank greedily dropped on their knees with the breath getting caught from big gulps of cool water. Thirst clenched, they chose to travel down the stream knee deep in the water. The distance they'd cover on land was sacrificed to leave no tracks. Neither spoke, deeply focused on keeping their breath. After a few hours, their feet grew numb from cold. Slippery, covered in sharp rocks river bed aimed to twist an ankle. Neither complained, though they stumbled frequently, leaning on each other for support.

They were a few miles away when the sun broke free from the horizon. It became dangerous to be out in the open. "This way," said Norrington with a nod at the right bank where he spotted a hiding place. Groves followed. They took shelter in between roots of a giant tree that had a crack leading down where they could rest after masking the entrance. In the sunlight, the salvaged trophy, which was shameful to call breakfast, presented some sour fruit and bread close to moulding. Norrington stated he wasn't hungry, but Groves adamantly refused to eat more than his share. Thus, they forced down the meagre meal regardless of its looks before sliding down into the shelter. The urge to sleep was overwhelming, but Theodore pushed it away. He didn't know how soon to expect the pursuit. Ferro may have been playing some twisted game.

"I'll take the first watch," he offered.

James wanted to argue, however, nursing the head injury was robbing him even of stubbornness. He hid it the best he could, but after hours of walking he had been wavering on his feet, increasingly so as the dawn drew near. "Thank you for all you've done." Norrington resisted the haze clouding his mind just a little longer to say something important that kept drifting away. Thanking Groves for saving his life didn't seem to cover the depth of his gratitude as it was not that rare of occurrence. Big words felt far too sentimental and far too fake. "Being stuck on this island without you would have been a lonely experience," he concluded.

Groves watched him, satisfied that Norrington sunk into normal sleep rather than sickly oblivion. The word 'lonely' lingered about, chasing away serenity. It felt like an echo of a deeply buried sentiment faced by the sailors. Groves knew it too. As much as he loved the sea, often, months of sailing with no land in sight brought about contemplation, the desire for meaning and goal of this endless wondering.

Who was he doing it for when there was nothing around – just the salty waves flying by like the moments of life, filling him with a soul binding loneliness? The more of them raced by, the less was left of his youth and the dimmer the chances grew of ever finding anyone to share his life with. Thus, he watched the horizon with a cutting awareness that back at home no one was waiting. That was so until he met James Norrington and stopped looking back to the land. But, this loneliness must have plague James as well.

Norrington would never admit to the fact. He would fill that gaping hole with work and duty, but he must have thought about it – rationally, without panic, making some logical decision. Groves sensed that his commander reached the mark in life that made him ready for a serious commitment.

This is why Theodore feared so James' frequent visits to the Swann family. Surely, he couldn't have expected of James to spend his entire life alone, but his entire being rebelled at the thought of Elizabeth. She did what women of good breeding did when a contender for their hand appeared, playing social games as propriety dictated, even flirting. Whether she wanted a marriage to him or not, without malice, to some extent she led him on. What made Groves bitter was that she didn't love Norrington. He was so sure because he was in love and he saw no glimpse of this resounding feeling in her. It could only be a good match based on reason, not heart. Only suffering could come from it. Groves fought hard to suppress the resentment for her, realizing it was the jealousy, unsuccessful in the end because he foresaw that she could only bring misery he couldn't forgive.

He glanced at the sleeping form beside him and his heart clenched at how much he wished this man happiness. Risking all, he leaned in and pressed his lips to Norrington's, shocked by the raging sensations these firm lips provoked. The Captain stirred, but didn't wake. Groves flung himself to the furthest corner of their hideout, wrapping arms around his middle, breathing shallowly. He tried to focus on keeping watch, but he was deaf and blind to all except lasting warmth on his lips.


	6. Chapter 6

Hello, I'm sorry for a false alarm recently. I was updating my other fic and accidentally added its chapter to this fic instead. I guess my sub consciousness was telling me to update this one as well. So, here's an update.

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**Chapter 6**

The exhaustion must have overpowered his resolution to keep watch. Groves woke up when an earth-scented hand firmly clasped over his mouth. A branch snapped under his back as he bucked to throw off the hold.

"Groves!" Norrington hissed into his ear, thus putting an end to the struggle. Escaped prisoners had company. Luckily, the snapped branch was muffled by an approaching group that hardly excelled at stealth. They shouted to each other and pushed through the jungle, slashing right and left at anything in their path. The racket was enough to frighten a flock of parrots on the other side of the island.

One of the pirates tripped over a root and crashed down, scattering a pack of blue and red frogs. One of the tiny creatures leaped through a crack in the greenery onto lieutenant's hand. The one who frightened it didn't notice the shelter. He sat up, wiping mud off his face and elicited a string of Spanish curses that ended with the frog's mother. "This is a waste of time!" he spat, savagely glaring at his laughing buddies. "Let the cursed creepers on this island eat the prisoners. We can go around collecting all mud and will never find them without One-Ear."

"Don't think you wanna switch places with him," said another, scratching the back of his neck with long, yellowish nails. "Stinking luck that that bilge rat got himself shot in the last attack when we only lost two to the Devil."

"See where that excuse gets you with Ferro," the first grumbled. "Don't think we're gonna be in a better place unless we find them by sunset."

"Quit cuddling the earth with your behind and let's check the trail upstream," a third voice offered the most sensible solution. "They can't be far."

The group, pushing and squabbling took off and was soon consumed by the greenery. Only then Groves felt acutely Norrington's grip on his shoulder and his heart sped up not from the passed danger, but from their close proximity.

"It's no good should there be more groups searching for us," said the captain. "One of them will eventually spot us."

"They'll have a hard time finding us without their tracker," Groves assured. A small voice was telling him to move away, but he hadn't the strength to break the contact as he explained the overheard conversation.

"I may have full appreciation for our luck, but we must return to the camp."

"I don't they'll share food and drink with us," Groves stated dryly. Norrington didn't smile.

"We cannot allow our ships to fall into another trap," he said, abandoning their shelter first. A bruise across his jaw added a mark of fierce determination to his words, although he never raised his voice.

"I guess we should do our best to disappoint Mr Ferro," said Groves, accepting his hand up.

"Besides, we may salvage edible supplies in the course of the operation."

Groves smiled. So, his joke didn't go unnoticed after all. "We may even find a pirate ship free for taking," he added. "I call Captain's role."

Norrington snorted.

Their scouting operation didn't supply them with food, however, getting aboard a ship proved to be a realistic possibility as they stumbled onto two pirates on the camp outskirts who were leisurely stretched out in the shade of some crates while taking generous swings of rum out of a single flask. Taken off guard, they were no match for well trained officers and soon their bodies lay hidden under the grass.

"Never thought I'd swap coats with a pirate," Groves commented, adjusting a hat low on his head to obscure his features. The bruises, he decided, only helped their disguise. To his surprise, Norrington looked the part with dishevelled hair and a few days of stubble adding roguish angles to his features. He never thought that proper gentlemen in his captain could be pushed aside.

Their disguise was to be tested as Groves spotted a bulky man heading in their direction. Low set, black eyebrows and a whip clutched in his stocky fingers gave him a formidable appearance. Groves sensed how perfectly still his captain was beside him, every muscle tense and ready for an attack as the pirate came closer.

"You two!" he yelled, pointing a whip handle at them. "What are you standing around for? Pick up those boxes and carry them to the ship, you useless slackers!"

Groves shrugged like he hardly cared and picked up one of the boxes, setting an example for Norrington. Followed by bos'un's grumbling, they did as directed.

"I ought to whip you half to death. The Captain wanted these boxes an hour ago."

Groves was tempted to drop the box, apparently leaden with cannon balls, onto the bos'un's foot. His shoulders began to ache as they marched to a boat perched on a beach. Once the boxes were loaded onto the boat, Groves stretched his back and with a critical eye examined the sea. There were three ships anchored on raid. One of them drew his attention due to the absence of pirate markings. Jotting his memory, he recognised the ship. HMS Valiant docked at Port Royal two months prior to being reported missing. She had a fine crew and a good Captain, no doubt all killed by Ferro. Serving a new master, she was a grave sight.

A whip lash across his shoulders jolted him into paying attention.

"Quit admiring the view and get to rowing," bos'un ordered. "Least you wanna end up like her crew." Ugly grin that split his upper lip in half showed that something savage took place. "I'll make an example of you like they've been made an example of. Many of us wanted to sink her too, but Ferro said we must replace our ship those do-gooders blew full of holes before we got to them."

Groves tried to ignore the colourful narrative how the Valiant's crew was punished for resistance, matching his breaths with each stroke. Norrington was doing the same. Groves could have betted his pirate outfit that the captain struggled against a strong urge to push the big-mouthed pirate overboard. Accumulated injuries were letting themselves known as they rowed past the Valiant to the biggest ship. Lieutenant hoped they wouldn't have to repeat the trip.

His prayers were answered. Once the crates were secured, the bos'un dismissed them with a whiplash across his back. Groves tolerated it as long as the dislike fell on him and left his captain out of it.

"There should be a map of the island in the Captain's cabin," said Norrington once they were free of the whip's charming company.

"It would prove useful for our investigation since I doubt Ferro will share the details of his plan with us."

"Maybe if we locked him in a cage and burned it down like he had done with the Valiant's crew."

"It's not like you to resort to unlawful measures," Groves commented on the mirthless remark. There was a new side to his captain he hadn't seen before.

"I know it's unreasonable. I'm just angry and a part of me seeks violence and revenge," the captain admitted.

"Me too." Lieutenant drew vague satisfaction from sharing the same sentiment, bloodthirsty as it was. The two of them were united by the same task no one else was a part of. He would have followed his captain anywhere, even on a quest to achieve revenge. This, however, was about saving their comrades.

There were no obstacles on the way to the cabin with most of the crew ashore. "My little sister would have loved this mess," Groves commented as they locked the door behind them.

"I do not share her enthusiasm." Norrington looked over the cabin disdainfully. His ideals on what the captain's quarters should be like were radically different.

The cabin depicted the ship's state. Glass crunched under their feet. A rum bottle went spinning off into the corner as Groves nudged it out of the way. The cabin resembled a random collection of objects thrown into it from the sky with a tray of rotten food crowning the table's centre. Moving the objects around was accompanied by rising puffs of dust. Groves nearly cut his hand on a dagger perched underneath a basket. "In this mess, I'm starting to doubt the map's existence," he muttered.

"Here." The table craned as Norrington pulled out a folded item that supported one of the legs.

Groves cleared the space, unceremoniously shoving things onto the floor. It hardly made a difference in the mess. "I believe this is where the Interceptor was ambushed," he pointed out the cliffs, studying a crudely shaped outline.

"Agreed. Ferro wouldn't stage an attack there. The Navy will not enter the same trap twice."

Groves followed the captain's elegant hand as he traced the shore line. "This is the only other location. He could use the same two ships we've encountered to lure the opponents closer to the shore where the riverbed is unfamiliar and have the rest of the ships wait behind this cape. They can snap the trap shut once the battle begins."

"It's a risky plan regardless," lieutenant noted. "I estimate both sides to be about equal in power."

"I doubt Ferro cares about the casualties as long as he wins."

Norrington folded the map and returned it to the previous location. "I thought I heard something," he said, turning sharply towards the door not a moment too soon as it flew off the hinges and a crowd of pirates surrounded them.

"I don't suppose we should give them a chance to surrender," Groves muttered, counting at least ten pistols and daggers pointed at them.

His eyes stopped on Fernando Ferro who smiled disarmingly from the doorway. "You're very predictable, Captain. Welcome back."


	7. Chapter 7

"They're moving into position."

The remark prompted Groves to put his entire strength into weakening the bar with renewed determination. He too felt the ship's steady movement as it lined up behind the cape for an ambush, just as they have predicted. "It's easier to pry these cells open when you're on the other side with a key in hand," he commented on the new experience. The lieutenant was usually the one locking someone inside rather than the other way around. Even if he had the benefit of Norrington's company, it was a lot better up on the deck where the air didn't smell like mould and dirty water.

Rust sunk into their palms as the prisoners redoubled their efforts to escape. Normally, breaking down the bars separating two cells was a futile task, but the moisture and general neglect of the entire ship rotted the wood at their bases. Several hours of persistent work yielded a promising result. A man would be able to squeeze in between the bars once one was removed.

They were thrown into the brig due to Ferro's twisted sense of humour. He thought it would be ironic for the prisoners to be killed by their own people once the Navy exchanged fire with the mercenary fleet. And should they survive the battle, the more fun for him. Remembering the last words hissed softly into his ear, Groves gave the bar an unmerciful tug that splintered one of the planks above them.

_"Stay in the brig, waiting for the inevitable, while pondering over and over again how many men will lose their lives due to your failure," Ferro spoke, once again coming disturbingly close as if searching the prisoner's soul for fear. "You will hear the battle and you will smell death while knowing that you are powerless to help. The anticipation will be painful. Perhaps, you will welcome death once it comes."_

_It was tempting to step away in disgust, but Groves locked eyes with their tormentor. "I wouldn't recommend holding your breath even if you fancy yourself immortal in some delusional dream," he stated without a shadow of a doubt. "The Royal Navy is the best in the world. It's laughable that you've challenged them. Your fleet will be sunk, your people forever imprisoned and you will be hung before sunset tomorrow. That I promise."_

_Ferro took half a step away, first to flinch and more so determined to have revenge for this minor loss. "Such faith you have in them." His lips narrowed meanly. "But, tell me, for whose sake do you have such high hopes," he spoke low while deliberately slowly he inclined his head to the second prisoner with a meaningful, lasting look. "Perhaps, for the one you lust after."_

_He let the words linger, watching Groves like a hawk as the lieutenant steeled himself to reveal nothing, silently wondering if he could snap Ferro's neck before three guards that remained in the cabin could stop him. He was sure that Norrington could hear them; more so, the soft voice prompted others to listen intently to every word as Ferro continued. "You prefer to be shot than to let your lieutenant be harmed. There's only one feeling that inspires such loyalty. Tell me, would you give up your immortal soul for a chance to be with him? Do you see his face when you close your eyes? Do you imagine his hand on your skin and the sound of his voice as he calls your name?"_

_"I imagine you'll make one ugly corpse," said Groves impassively. "With your poisoned tongue lolled out of your mouth and the eyes that used to watch the world with such scorn rolled up to the sky where no God will answer you."_

_"Hearing your God will be a weak consolation once you die knowing that your lieutenant knows now about your perversion and scorns you, that he hates every bit of you," Ferro hissed. Tired of their conversation or perhaps eager to leave them with a final thought about his feelings for Norrington, anticipating that he created a rift between them, Ferro spun on his heel and was first to exit the cabin with one brief command to his subordinates. "Lock them in the brig."_

And so they were left together in a small cell, but separated by a wall of unspoken words.

"We're almost done. I can finish this alone. You should rest if you feel too tired."

Norrington's voice brought Groves out of his musings. The lieutenant shook his head and resumed work, quicker yet, to make up for the lapse. He must have stopped at some point while he was lost in thought. Working on the escape plan helped him avoid any other conversations. Neither of them addressed Ferro's claim ever since they've been locked in. Groves considered that perhaps he was the only one who imagined the tension between them. His captain didn't act or speak any differently. Maybe, Norrington thought it merely a psychological attempt to get under their skin, nothing more, and chose to ignore Ferro's ramblings. That would have been a saving illusion. Although, Theodore was unable to shake off deep regret that it was for the best for his captain to believe that.

"I wonder what changed Mr Ferro's mind," said Norrington. "He had planned to keep us alive in case he should lose the battle."

"Nothing good," Groves replied grimly. "But, this arrogance will be his fatal mistake."

The bar finally gave in under their steady ministrations. Its heavy weight in his hands felt like his fate as they lowered it into a muddy layer of water on the floor. As they got through the bars and pushed the door open, in the dim light Norrington found his friend's hand and firmly squeezed it, the handshake sealing their mutual agreement. "I'd like to say don't take unnecessary risks, but it wont be possible," he said simply.

"I plan to be in the first departing boat right behind the rats," Groves replied, strutting up the stairs out of the brig confidently like he was the captain rather than an escaped prisoner walking most likely towards his death. Since Ferro hadn't thought of confiscating their outfits, they still looked much like the crew. Whereas, Groves doubted that those few who took part in capturing them would be carefully looking over every crew member who went past when every pirate was busy with final preparations for the battle. The commanding officers' whips ensured that no one was distracted.

The plan was crystal clear. As Norrington pointed out, they had to shamelessly bluff and force their way through the thick to reach the powder room and set up an explosion. Any Navy ships in the vicinity would be attracted to a billowing column of smoke and will head for the ambush party, instead of taking the bait. If they were lucky, the ship they were on would sink too before the battle. Regardless that it resembled an old shoe its sixty guns were a significant threat.

"Hold it right there you scum!"

Groves ignored the call, though he was sure it was directed at him. He resolutely followed his captain two steps behind as they weaved twisted path around endless crates, small objects scattered on deck that no one cared to pick up and the crew. Judging by the feverish activity the signal was soon to come. Groves didn't get far. A whip curled around his neck and a tug that stole his breath brought him down onto his back. An imposing figure of the second mate blocked the sky.

"Tell me, you worthless bilge rat," he sneered, revealing a row of metal teeth, "what are we doing?"

"Uh…" Groves tugged coiled leather around his neck loose to speak, "preparing for battle?"

"You figured as much!" the man grimaced like he never expected Groves to figure it out. "And what do we need in battle?"

"Weapons?"

"Then what are you doing on deck unarmed! You fancy you can strut around this way when we fight?" the second mate bellowed. "Go to the armoury at once and get weapons before I put a hole in the empty skull of yours!"

Groves didn't need to be asked twice. He quickly vanished out of baleful officer's sight under the pretext of getting the weapons. Norrington was already lost in the crowd, but an open hatch nearby indicated where he might have gone. The gun powder storage was somewhere below the deck. Groves caught up to him in a short passage that led to a heavily reinforced door with several locks that hung open. The access to the room, however, was blocked by two formidable men armed to the teeth with pistols and short sabres.

"Change of guard," Groves informed them forcefully, quickly cutting the distance between the two parties as if the pair hadn't regarded him as a cockroach one might accidentally step on. He sensed that Norrington, behind the visibly relaxed posture was tense as a predator before a jump. "Captain's orders!"

The guards exchanged glances as if asking each other how they should proceed and then one of them shrugged, deciding to give up his post. No one was eager to be stationed near the explosives in battle. They negligently brushed past the next shift. One of them purposely bumped into Norrington's shoulder and with a nasty smirk exchanged a close glare with him. A glimpse of recognition suddenly lit his eyes. "Hold it!" he yelled. "I know…" His sight turned glassy. A trail of blood snaked out of the corner of his mouth as he sunk to the floor with a knife buried to the hilt in his heart.

Groves hadn't time to ask when his captain picked up the weapon. He threw his entire weight onto the second guard's arm to thwart a retaliating blow against the intruder to who killed his mate. Next, he saw stars as the pirate with a frustrated yowl shook off the hold and elbowed him in the face. The back of his head collided with a wall, spiralling up the pain from every injury he had sustained lately. Norrington didn't allow the pirate to finish the job and hooked his foot, brining them down.

The pair struggling for the weapon possession momentarily blurred, but Groves knew that his captain was losing. In the narrow space, brutal strength was a better ally than agility and tactics. Groves slid along the wall towards the dead man. His hands shook as he untangled a pistol stuck in the wide belt. Firing even from two feet away was impossible. World spinning, he lunged into the fray. Another elbow in the ribs winded him, but failed to prevent the attack. Groves jammed the barrow into the guard's stomach and pulled the trigger. The man with an anguished howl stilled.

"Do it!" Norrington threw a brisk order, leaping over the collapsed pair to face two more pirates that came to investigate the noise. Groves confiscated the remaining pistol from a man who'd never need it again and jumped to his feet, grabbing hold of the handle to regain his balance. The door screeched as he yanked it open. The barrows full of gun powder inside slowly came into focus. He chose a small one he could lift and disregarding noise behind him pried it open. Catching stray glimpse of a fight where his captain was slowly losing ground meant abandoning the task and jumping in to assist him even if it meant death.

"Yer crazy devil!" yelled one of the pirates as he saw a trail of gun powder Groves laid out along the floor. "Ye'll blast us to pieces!"

The distraction cost him dearly as a sabre wielded by his opponent grazed his ribs and he staggered backwards. Hate and desire to kill the intruders quickly replaced by a single thought to save his skin.

"That's the point!" Groves sneered and fired at the trail of gun powder. Sparks soared into the air. The red flame momentarily hesitated and then greedily sprung forward, consuming the trail inch by inch.

Now Groves was free to assist his captain, but it wasn't necessary. The pirates, pushing each other out of the way, took off like a legion sharks was hot on their heels. Their incoherent screams caused mayhem as they sprung onto the deck like a devilish, howling whirlwind.

Groves didn't hear them. The rest of the world blurred as he pushed forth with a single goal in mind - jump overboard. He got separated from Norrington by a bos'un as they dodged around the man to the right and left. Though startled, the pirate grabbed a fistful of the lieutenant's coat. Groves put all of his remaining strength into a punch that broke his assailant's nose. Three steps separated him from the railing. Two more. And his foot was on top of it. Then, the hell broke loose.


End file.
